Kidnapped
by OzGeek
Summary: A mysterious signal leads to McGee's capture. Set in season 3. Now complete. Thanks for all the wonderful feedback.
1. Kidnapped

The warehouse was obviously a trap but it was a trap they were well prepared for. Gibbs eyes scanned the outside for signs of trouble: Nothing. "OK, McGee, you set up behind the car, let me know the moment you have a trace."

"On it Boss." McGee hauled out the laptop, set it on the ground and knelt beside it. The boot up sequence was fast and he began typing almost immediately.

"You two with me," said Gibbs casually heading for the warehouse with Tony and Ziva shadowing him.

"McGee?" Gibb spoke softly into the microphone.

"Loud and clear boss," came McGee's voice through the earpiece. Then there was a loud "ooph" sound which made Gibbs winch.

"Sorry Boss, over balanced."

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Unbelievable," he whispered. "Just let us know when you have a trace."

"Right," The embarrassment transmitted itself over the ether.

The trio of agents entered the warehouse cautiously.

"Agent Gibbs," said a voice over the loud speaker. "You're right on time. I do so appreciate punctuality."

"What do you want?" Gibbs was not in the mood for games.

"Your best agent," the voice boomed. "The one who's been causing us problems."

Gibbs moved slightly closer to Tony causing Ziva to shoot him a disgusted look. Tony smirked back at her.

There was another "ooph" over the earpiece and Gibbs allowed himself a little sigh of exasperation. The three agents drew together with their backs touching scanning the darkness.

"And we are done here," came the voice. "Thank you for your co-operation."

There was the sound of a car screeching off in the distance. The three agents looked at each other.

"It could be a trick," Ziva warned, still looked around warily.

"Did you get a fix McGee?" Gibbs called through the microphone. There was no response. "So help me McGee."

Tony smirked, McGee was in for it now.

As they walked back towards the car, Ziva took up her grievance with Gibbs: "Why do you think he's a better agent than me?"

"I don't," said Gibbs without even looking at her.

"Then why?"

"You're not my agent, you're on loan."

"But he might not know that.." she protested.

"Oh, he knows," said Gibbs expressionlessly.

The rounded the car and stopped short. The laptop was on its side and there was a headpiece lying next to it. McGee was gone.

"What! Best agent!" Tony was indignant. "They're obviously insane."

"Yeah?" Gibbs looked at him. "How are we going to trace him?"


	2. WWTD?

McGee awoke slowly to a symphony of pain. His head was thumping, his neck was stiff and every muscle seemed immobilised. There was a burning in his throat. His mouth was painfully dry but the rest of him seemed cold and wet. There was a familiar smell. He thought for a moment and then he recognised it: vomit. He could see nothing, that tight feeling around his eyes must be a blindfold.

He was cold, unusually so. It occurred to him that he had no trousers or jacket. Looks like whoever had put him here had dispensed with searching for hidden tracking devices and just thrown out the lot. He still had socks on though, that seemed bizarre.

His wrists were tied with some form of rope about half an inch in diameter, so were his ankles. He moved his head slightly and realised the same harsh twine encircled his neck. The ropes on his wrists were so tight they seemed to have worn through to his bones, but he could just be imagining that. The one thing he didn't want to loose was his hands (well after his head and some vital organs) and never be able to use his computers again.

He was sitting on a chair. What was it they said at training? The chair was the weakest link. He felt the chair with his fingers. What was this: cast iron? Then he recognised it as one of those garden chairs with the wrought iron lacework. 'Fantastic,' he thought: 'heavy and tough'. He paused to gather himself.

'WWTD,' he thought to himself. 'What would Tony do?"

"First kidnapping?"

The voice made him jump.

"Usually people feign unconsciousness first and try to assess the situation, but you just got straight in there, didn't you?"

McGee's shoulder slumped: Yes, that was what Tony would do.

"I find it refreshingly honest," said the voice admiringly making McGee feel even more amateurish.

"By the way: in case you're ever kidnapped again, which is unlikely by the way, you are rather sensitive to chloroform."

Actually, he knew that.

"What with the seizures and the vomiting, we nearly gave up and threw you in the river but you started coming round just in time."

McGee panicked momentarily and then calmed himself. If he was going to die, he wasn't going to let his guy have the satisfaction of upsetting him.

"Tell me about your lunchtime hobbies," said the voice conversationally.

This took McGee completely off guard. "What?"

"Your little foray into mysterious signal spikes," the voice prompted.

Realisation hit McGee but he tried desperately not to show it. Hopefully his face was too disfigured to betray his emotion.

"Yes, that's the one," said the voice.

Obviously his face wasn't that disfigured.

"It was only noticed by you and a group of SETI astronomers. They've now got extra funding by the way but they think we're transmitting from Persus A," there was a low chuckle. "You, on the other hand, got a little close to home."

"I thought it was a local spike," he lied.

There was a resounding whack across his face and he tasted blood.

"You are not a good liar."

He had to admit the guy had a point. Part of him began to panic, Abby knew about this too. He concentrated hard on an image of working alone in the lab, desperately trying to make himself believe that Abby had no idea. Perhaps he could try swamping himself and his interrogator with that image.

"OK," he began. "At first I thought it was a local spike but after I checked every device within a two mile radius I thought it must be more distant but strong. So I checked all the databases I could think of and came up blank. Then I started ringing around agencies, who all thought I was nuts for calling them during their lunchbreak."

"Did you share your search with anybody else?"

"Apart from the people who abused me during their lunchbreak?"

"Yes," there was mild amusement in the voice.

"No," said McGee confidently. "It was a lunchtime thing."

There was a pause and McGee tried to keep his breathing steady.

"Good," said the voice finally and McGee fought the urge to heave a relived sigh."Then that will be all." He heard a door shut.


	3. Escape

McGee waited alone in the dark and cold wondering if there was something he should be doing about now.

'WWTD?'

Maybe Tony would try to escape. He tested the ropes again: too strong. He felt the chair: too strong. Then he noticed the sharp edges on the wrought ironwork. Frantically, he started rubbing the ropes around his wrists on a particularly pointy piece. The pain on his wrist was excruciating causing him to whimper occasionally. The rope around his neck was intimately connected to the rope around his wrists so if he took the pressure off his wrists for any length of time, he started to choke.

'WWTD?'

It occurred to him that maybe he was being too tough on himself. Maybe Tony would cry like a baby. Still he scraped.

It seemed to takes hours until he felt the strands of the rope giving way. His upper arm muscles were cramping and his shoulders and back were radiating pain. Somehow he had expected that the moment he broke through one strand, the rest of the rope would just magically dissolve at once and he was frustrated to find he had to keep on scraping at each individual strand.

Finally, the ropes loosened enough that he could wriggle his aching hands free. He paused for a moment, shaking them to let some blood flow into his fingers again and then he tackled the neck rope and his blindfold. Although not exactly afraid of the dark, he felt much more confident when he could see all the present dangers. He fumbled desperately with the blindfold knot. His exhilaration as he managed to wrench the blindfold off was replaced by frustration that there was no light in the room. He bent over his naked legs to loosen the ropes on his ankles.

Once free he moved gingerly. Nothing seemed broken but everything hurt in someway; though there was a pain in the ribs down his right hand side which he suspected indicated a break or two. He wondered if someone had been beating him or if this was just the result of being thrown in a car boot and tossed around for hours. The one thing that bothered him was the pain in his wrists and the rather limited movement and sensation he had in his fingers.

His senses heightened, he felt his way around the room with slightly numb fingertips. The door was locked, no surprises there. A few tentative bashes with his foot told him it wasn't coming off its hinges any time soon. Feeling his way around the walls, he came across some raised boards. He paused and pondered on them. Someone had boarded up a window. He felt for the edge and squeezed his fingers in any gap he could find. Then he pulled with all his might. Something shifted. Not enough to do anything useful but enough to give him hope. He tried again. And again. It was the rope thing all over again.

Finally the rusty nails gave up their grip and the boards came away with an almighty rush which left him sitting abruptly on the ground. The shock caused a stab of pain through his ribs, confirming his suspicions. It was still dark. He felt for the region again and he could feel the cold glass. He peered outside. It was totally dark. Not even a moon.

He took one of the boards and rammed it into the window until it shattered. Clearing out the ragged edges, he heaved his aching body through the opening and felt for ground. Thankfully, it was a ground floor room. He shuddered to think how he would have coped if he'd found himself hanging out a ten-storey window.

Now he was out, he was actually starting to enjoy himself. It was just like a spy novel, or some Arnie movie. His eyes were starting to adjust to starlight and he could make out building silluettes. The rows of old wooden structures seemed to run for miles. Logically he knew there must be an end so he headed in one direction with the hope of hitting a fence or something eventually. His logic was right but the fence was high and built to keep people in. What was this place, a stalag?

He moved slowly around the perimeter until he found a gate. As expected it was high, covered in barbed wire and severely padlocked. He heard a car pass and ran for cover. He watched from the protection of a building but saw it pass in the distance. Sound obviously carried here. So no one was likely to pass here by accident. Anyone who came here was planning to kill him. Hmm, how did he change this situation?

'WWTD?'

He sat down to think and found he was on a pile of sharp stones. Almost like flints….his mind whirled: 'wooden buildings, stones that can make fire….that should get someone's attention'.

He took two pieces of stone and approached the side of a building. The weeds that spouted from its base were conveniently dry. It only took a few sparks from the stones and the weeds caught alight. He nurtured the flame until it took a hold of the building and then things started happening very, very fast.

In moments the building seemed to erupt into flames infecting its neighbour in a fiery domino display that he might not have believed if he hadn't seen it. There was a very real risk he was going to be burnt alive before help arrived. He fled to a further part of the area cursing himself: 'Yes, that's exactly was Tony would have done,' he thought. 'Sometimes, Tony's an idiot.'

He was relived when he finally heard the fire engine sirens approaching. They pulled up and snapped though the lock with bolt cutters. As they engines raced inside. He slowly crept back to the open gate and slunk outside.

A sleek black Dodge pulled up along side him and his heart sank. They had found him again. He watched the door open and prepared to meet his fate.


	4. Alias

Rooted to the spot, McGee watched as the car door swung open and a figure emerged. Hold on, he knew that walk. Tony's teeth shined in the darkened night.

"Thought this looked like your work," he quipped.

Tony approached him with open arms and McGee started to stride confidently towards him. It was just like the movies with the hero walking out from the flames. Only in the movies, the hero had perfect hair, was wearing his pants, wasn't covered in his own vomit and only had a token cut on his head. And sometimes there was an unscathed dog with him, but that was something McGee could never understand.

Despite his heroic fantasy, he slowly felt his body drain of energy as Tony closed. The realisation of what he had just been through started to hit home and his knees began to give out. He had the feeling he was wading knee deep in water. He was looking forward to a great supportive hug from Tony and Gibbs who he could see bringing up the rear. Oh and there was Ziva.

To his surprise, Tony pounced on him and started ripping off his clothes like a frenzied hyena. Gibbs came in for his piece too and everything was tossed to Ziva who ran back to the car. Soon he was entirely naked.

"You're dead, Probie," Tony yelled at him, urgently pulling him towards the car.

"What?"

Tony pushed him back into the backseat and threw a rough woollen blanket around his shoulders. Gibbs brought over a body that Ziva had been dressing in his clothes and laid it out on the on the road at his feet. Ziva brought out a flashlight and began examining his injuries.

"Ok, we have rope burns on the ankles, not too bad, half inch diameter, I'd say." She ran to the boot and took out a rope, "Perfect."

She ran to the body and roughly rubbed the rope around the body's ankles until she had inflicted similar damage to McGee's injuries. Gibbs took up the flashlight. He shined it over McGee's face and he squinted against the light.

"Various bumps, contusions, split lip," he remarked casually scanning down his face. "Evidence of blindfold. Ah, looks like there was a rope around the neck too."

Ziva looked up and checked the extent of his injuries, mirroring the effect on the body. Gibbs continued, opening up McGee's blanket and checking his chest and legs.

"Nothing on the front," he called out.

He pushed McGee roughly forward and pulled down the blanket to check his back causing McGee to gasp in pain from his injured ribs.

"Except for ribs, right side only," Gibbs amended and Ziva delivered a swift kick to the right hand side of the body.

Gibbs gave her a steely look. "Only bruised, I think."

"Semantics," Ziva shrugged and Gibbs returned to McGee's body.

"Back's OK too," he called out. "What were you doing in there, just a social visit?"

McGee ignored him, it sounded rhetorical.

Suddenly, Gibbs clicked his tongue in annoyance. "The tat!"

"Took care of that, boss," Tony assured him. "Got Abby to draw it from memory."

Gibbs let out a sigh of relief. He squatted down to McGee's eye level as McGee huddled into the blanket. He started to ask McGee a question but stopped as McGee caught his eye.

"Abby," he said urgently.

"She's not here, McGee, she's back at the lab, you can see her when we get back," Gibbs dismissed him.

"No," McGee rasped at him, holding his gaze. "Protect Abby".

Gibbs stared at him for a moment processing the information. "Abby's in danger?" he clarified.

McGee nodded, closing his eyes in relief. Gibbs stood up, flipped out his cell phone and made a quick call. Then he crouched to McGee's eye level again.

"Taken care of," he said curtly. "Any other injuries?"

McGee looked up at him with soulful eyes. Slowly and silently he brought his hands out from the blanket to reveal his wrists. He heard Ziva gasp and even Gibbs swore under his breath.

"Can you do that?" Gibbs asked Ziva.

"I'll need to get some more tools," she replied.

McGee shut his eyes. He didn't want to see what Ziva was going to do to that body. He hadn't had the courage to look at his own wrists, let alone watch the same thing happen to someone else.

"Right, Probie," said Tony briskly. "Time to get into the anonymous clothes."

He pulled out matching tracksuit halves and held out the pants for McGee to step into. McGee eased in carefully and then Tony presented the top. McGee hissed in pain as his gingerly threaded his wrists through the sleeves. He heard some more sirens coming.

"Time to go," said Tony pushing him roughly into the foot well of the back seat.

McGee heard a considerable amount of straining and swearing coming from the other three before they ran off into the distance obviously carrying the body. They arrived back in a mob and the three car door slammed almost simultaneously. The car screeched off into the night.

"Are you OK, McGee?" Gibbs yelled from the driver's seat.

"Ahh, I don't know," he said tentatively, lifting his head up slightly.

Ziva placed a foot on his head. "Stay down," she ordered but she was kind enough to offer him a bottle of water which he drank gratefully.


	5. Enter the machine

When the car screeched into the car park, McGee was rather annoyed he hadn't passed out. He really didn't like feeling like this. In movies, people passed out and when they woke up, they were in nice clean hospitals with cute nurses and clean white bandages. Instead, he was still frozen, in incredible pain and stiff in every joint. The entire trip had been spent in a succession of uncomfortable positions trying desperately to protect his injured wrists and ribs while Gibbs rampaged around some backstreets all the while pounding him with relentless questions: Who were they? What did they want? What did the place smell like? Did he have an accent?

He felt Tony try to haul him out of the car but he knew he had to help. If he had been unconscious, he would have been saved all this pain. Once out, he shuffled stiffly with Tony urging him on from behind.

"Autopsy," Tony hissed. "Move it, Bernie."

Gibbs was still doggedly on his tail, interrogating him. McGee looked up. It was still dark. How could this be? It wasn't winter solstice, he had done the calculation. It seemed like the longest darkness ever.

Then they hit Ducky's domain and he realised he had to be more careful what he wished for. The room was flooded in a harsh light that took his breath away. Tony hurried him through the door. Ducky was standing alone and clearly waiting for them. Gibbs took a break from his barrage for a moment to let Ducky talk.

"OK, Timothy," he said seriously. "Let's get this over with".

Tony led McGee to a table and helped him hoist himself up.

"Anything on the trunk," Ducky asked Gibbs casually.

"No, only ribs and the extremities," came the efficient reply.

"Good, that will save time," Ducky remarked and McGee had the unnerving feeling that they did this sort of thing a lot. It was like a well oiled machine. Perhaps there was even a conveyor belt outside.

Ducky pulled over a tray of rather sinister looking sterile instruments and began probing at his wounds, picking out strands of rope and bagging them as evidence.

"Any other injuries," Ducky inquired as he scanned the tray. "I can smell vomit"

McGee looked down, embarrassed. "Ah, they used chloroform."

"Ah…," Ducky understood the implications. "Any problems?"

"Seizure apparently, the guy made comment about it."

"Oh, well you could have bruised the ribs then," Ducky concluded absently, selecting his weapon from the tray.

Gibbs renewed his attack: "Tell me about this spike."

McGee sighed, he was getting pretty tired of all this. He related his experiences over the past few hours in a monotone, staring straight ahead and trying to ignore the nightmare his life had become. He recalled the mysterious spike that plagued the spectrum analyser at lunchtime. At first he assumed it was local interference and, after checking Abby's equipment for leaks, he came across the idea that the problem might be due to a leaky microwave. After checking every microwave in the building, he was forced to rethink.

Then Abby had noted that the spike appeared not only at the same approximate time each day but at EXACTLY the same time every day. To the micro second, possibly closer as that was as much resolution as she had. It then lasted for precisely the same length of time before disappearing until the next day. Even in their building, it was unlikely that someone would be so anally retentive as to time their microwaving to the microsecond.

McGee stooped his narrative abruptly as Ducky stuck him in one of his sore wrists in an attempt to remove some twine than was embedded there.

"Sorry, Timothy," said Ducky casually as McGee winced in pain. The he looked over to Gibbs. "I'm going to have to call in some favours on these wrists," he said worriedly. "They're a hospital job; I can't fix injuries like this here."

Instinctively, McGee looked down at his mangled wrists. He had been right to avoid looking at them and why he had chosen to do so then was a total mystery to him. In a heartbeat, a tidal wave of dispair hit him full force. Before he knew it, he was shaking and weeping, almost to the point of hysteria.

"Oh, Timothy," Ducky said gently, replacing his instruments immediately.

"We're done here," he heard Gibbs voice.

McGee could feel Tony's warmth across his back. Someone else was holding him from the front, and although it made him feel better, it paradoxically made him sob harder. He could feel gentle arms around him, by the stubble and the aroma of coffee, it was Gibbs. He buried his face in Gibbs shoulder and for the first time in longer than he could remember, he felt safe.

"Ssh," he heard Gibbs soft voice in his ear. "It's all over now."

He felt sleep suck him into its vortex at a ferocious speed.

Gibbs grunted under the sudden increase in weight as McGee collapsed towards him.

"Christ, Ducky, are these guys getting heavier or am I getting older?"

Ducky chuckled, "A little of both I suspect."

"Boss," said Tony uncertainly. "I don't do that, do I?"

"Oh, I think you'll find everyone reaches a point where they just drop like a stone," said Ducky conversationally, sorting through his instruments. "He'll feel better in the morning after a bit of sleep".

"Ya goona help me with this DiNozzo?" Gibbs grunted feeling he was loosing in the battle of weight.

"Oh sure Boss," Tony reacted suddenly, realising he could be of some help.

Together Tony and Gibbs laid McGee on the table. Ducky moved next to Gibbs and gently bandaged the injured wrists.

"You set up Abby's futon?" Gibbs asked Tony, flexing his sore forearms.

"Yep, as always."

"Let's go."


	6. Lab night

McGee was half awake, practising his kidnapped technique. It was still dark. Of course. He was curled up in the foetal position on a mattress on the floor snuggled into a quilt of some kind. Something warm lay in his hand. It felt like flesh. He opened one eye blearily and saw Gibbs sitting beside him on the floor. He had his glasses perched on his nose and he seemed to be reading a report of some kind by lamplight. He followed the line of Gibbs' arm and traced it back to himself. The warm thing in his hand was Gibbs' hand.

"You did OK, out there today," said Gibbs quietly without looking up.

"It didn't feel OK," McGee replied sullenly.

"It never does," Gibbs told him. "Get some sleep".

"I'm not tired, Boss," he said drowsily, his eyes sliding closed again.

He sighed contentedly. It mightn't be the clean white hospital with the cute nurse, but it would certainly do for now. He wondered vaguely how many times Gibbs had sat like this with Tony, holding his hand after one of his many adventures. He never could work out how Tony bounced back from such experiences. Now he was finding out. Slowly, he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

The low English accents roused him from sleep. It was still dark but the lights from the lab gave the darkness a homey quality. It was Ducky, he noted vaguely, and he had someone with him.

"We're just going to look at you wrists, Timothy," he heard Ducky's reassuring voice and they rolled him onto his back.

He dozed while they unwrapped his bandages and prodded his wrists. Every now and again, they would wake him to ask him a question or get him to move his fingers, but in the main he was tired enough to sleep through major surgery. He didn't even notice them leave.

* * *

When he woke properly, he practised feigning sleep and checking out his surroundings. He was lying on his back with his wrists crossed protectively in front of him: Probably where Ducky had left them. It was finally light and there was a strange clicking noise near his head. He opened his eyes a crack and was surprised to see Abby sitting beside him knitting.

"Abby?"

"Oh, hey McGee."

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing, crochet? I'm knitting; it's a great tension reliever."

She stopped and looked down at him. "You're pretty talkative for a dead guy, you know. You made the news."

McGee gave her a puzzled look.

"They found your body at the scene of the fire; someone's trying to ID you even as we speak."

"Will they?" he was getting confused.

"Doesn't really matter so long as the bad guys think you're dead."

He considered this for a moment: Dead meant safe. OK, he could handle that for now. Then a hunger pang stabbed him like a knife.

"Anything to eat," he asked. "I'm starving".

Abby smiled down at him. "That's a good sign McGee! Tony left you a burrito."

"Yes!" he cheered. "Thank you Tony."

Then he tried to get up. An agonizing pain shot across the entire upper half of his body causing him to grunt in pain and fall back again. He lay panting for a moment. Next he tried rolling to one side but that was the side with the sore ribs. He stopped and rolled back the other way but at the last minute he realised he would have to use his elbows to lever himself up rather than his wrists and he nearly fell flat on his face trying to support himself. The pain from his injured ribs made him gasp. In a few minutes he had struggled theatrically to a sitting position.

The routine earned him a round of applause from Abby: "Do it again," she urged.

He shot her a withering look and reached for the burrito. He stopped suddenly; his eyes open wide in horror.

"Abby," he said quietly. "I can't feel my fingers."

"Yeah, I know," she said happily picking up her knitting.

"What?" he said incredulously.

"Don't you remember what Ducky told you last night?"

He scanned his memory banks, no matches.

"Ah no," he said tentatively hoping whatever Ducky had said was going to make him feel a hell of a lot better.

"Carpal tunnel syndrome," she explained in a 'this is soooo obvious' voice.

"What?"

"The little tunnel that all the tendons in your wrists have to travel through is all swollen which pinches the nerves and you can't feel anything. It's the same thing old people get from" ….she help up her work victoriously…. "..knitting. My grandmother used to get it all the time."

"Well, will it go away?" he was not happy, he was hoping for so much more out of Ducky.

"Well, eventually," she shrugged. "I wouldn't hold your breath."

McGee sighed miserably, took the burrito carefully in both hands and took a hungry bite.

"You know what I've been thinking?" Abby tempted him.

"That we could triangulate on the spike?" he suggested through a mouthful of food.

She gave him a wide smile. "Yes! That's exactly what I was thinking."

"I imagine they've changed frequency by now," he mumbled through his food.

"Oh, they tried to run," said Abby excitedly. "But they couldn't hide. I found them again."

McGee stopped chewing and smiled at her. "Really?"

"Really, really."

"Show me." He attempted to get up half a dozen times before she took pity on him and helped.


	7. Clothing

_NOTE: For you youngsters: Columbo was the Monk of my time, he had a great coat._

* * *

Abby and McGee were still working on the computer when the lab door slid open and Tony and Ziva walked in carrying a cardboard box each.

"McGee!" said Tony cheerfully. "We've been going over your place looking for 'evidence'," he emphasised. "We thought you might like some clothes and stuff."

McGee brightened considerably. The tracksuit from the previous night was a one-size-fits-nobody design. It was definitely made with someone shorter and thinner in mind. Someone with a miss piggy fetish, by the colour.

Tony tossed his box on the bench. "In box number one," he announced. "We have shirts, ties, socks, pants, shoes and toiletries. Plus the jacket and pants the bad guys tossed in the car park with all your electronic do-dads in the pockets."

"Yes!" this was good news.

Ziva hoisted her box on the same bench with much less fanfare sliding Tony a bored look. "And I," she said. "Choose your under garments."

McGee froze in horror, his eyes flitting from Ziva's wicked smile to Tony's sloppy grin. There were somethings he was sure he had hidden well. Well enough to be concealed from Tony and Ziva?

"Ooooh, Ooooh," said Abby excitedly. "Did you get the.."

"Oh yes," Ziva confirmed.

"And?"

"Definitely," Ziva gave Abby an exaggerated nod.

"They were from me," said Abby proudly.

"I guessed," Ziva gave her a conspiratorial smile.

McGee closed his eyes in horror, then took a deep breath. "Did you get anything normal?" he hazarded.

"Yes," Ziva assured him. "I just brought a few extra things to brighten up your day. Or Abby's day."

That earned her a sour look.

"I also brought you this," said Ziva, holding up his favourite long brown coat.

McGee's face brightened again but Tony's dropped.

"You brought the Columbo coat?" Tony whined. "Damn, I was going to tell him it burnt in the fire."

"Hey, what's wrong with my coat?" said McGee defensively, taking it lovingly from Ziva.

"Well, if you lost an eye, smoked six packs a day, grew your hair way, way out, and got a bloodhound and a battered old car then it wouldn't look too out of place," said Tony sarcastically.

McGee pouted at him. "Don't listen to him," he crooned to his coat.

"That is so sick," Abby shook her head at him.

"What?"

Abby rolled her eyes.

McGee truly didn't care right now what they thought of his beloved coat. "I am going for a shower," he said collecting some clothes from the boxes. He got two steps before he stopped dead. "Ah can I get these bandages wet?"

"Probably not," Abby confirmed. "Here," she dug out a pair of long latex gloves, "put these on."

He tried valiantly fumbling with numb fingers until Tony couldn't stand it any more and helped him.

"Thanks," said McGee.

"Just don't ask for my help in the shower," he retorted.

"I'll do it!" Abby volunteered.

"I'm fine, thank you," he said to her firmly and headed to the showers. "When I get back, we'll get everyone together and tell them the plan," he called over his shoulder.

Then he stopped again, turned back and grabbed his coat and made his final journey out the door.


	8. The plan

Apart from the split lip and the wrist bandages, it could have been any meeting in the bullpen. Abby and McGee put the images onto the plasma screen so that Ziva, Tony and Gibbs could appreciate the background and the problem.

"So our plan," began Abby.

"Is to send each of you guys out with a laptop and a receiver," McGee continued.

"And we'll set you up," Abby indicated on the map on the screen. "Here, here and here."

"The signals will be sent straight back to the lab," said McGee.

"Where we do the calculation and send the co-ordinates back to each of the three laptops," Abby concluded happily.

"When?" Gibbs was direct.

"Ahh, actually tomorrow," Abby admitted. "Somebody," she directed her stare in McGee's direction, "slept in today."

He raised an eyebrow at her for a moment but the movement hurt his sore lip.

"Won't someone detect us and try to say, kidnap us?" asked Tony pointedly.

"No, no, no," McGee assured him. "These are entirely passive systems; I observed them for weeks before I started ringing around. It was only then that someone realised I had detected them."

"He used the telephone as an active system," Abby explained.

"Who'd you ring?"

"Everyone I could think of," McGee stated simply.

"Who?" Gibbs tone took on that of an interrogation.

"Oh, um, ah government agencies mainly," he stammered. "I could, ah, make a list boss."

"Do it," it wasn't a suggestion.

"And so tomorrow, we hunt," Abby cut in.

"OK," said Gibbs turning his attention to her. "Tomorrow it is. Until then, I want both of you to stay in the lab tonight."

"Oh Gibbs," Abby wailed. "With McGee?"

"Thanks Abbs," McGee sighed.

"I get the mattress," she pouted.

"I'm sure we can get a second mattress Abby," said Gibbs. "I don't want either of you out and about tonight."

"You have the mattress," McGee volunteered. "I'll sleep here in the chair."

* * *

McGee snapped wake for what seemed like the fiftieth time, plagued by dreams of darkened rooms with no way out. Sleeping in the chair had been a bad decision; it reminded him far too much of the kidnapping. He'd tried lying on the floor but the darkness kept panicking him. Now he was sitting hunched behind his chair with the desk lamp shining. It wasn't helping. He couldn't sleep with all that light.

He had reached the point where he kept dozing off from exhaustion only to start awake every few minutes shaking in fright. The darkened shadows thrown by the lamp took on malevolent forms; everywhere he turned there were terrifying creatures. Half the time, he couldn't be sure if he was awake or asleep. One of the shadows started moving towards him and his heart started to thump in his throat.

"McGee?" it said hesitantly.

He relaxed slightly. "Abby?"

"I just came to see if you were OK?" Abby explained sitting next to him on the floor.

"Define OK?"

"Oh, you know, sleeping peacefully."

"Well, then no, probably not. Are there ominous dark shapes in the definition of OK?"

"For me, yes," said Abby. "For you; not so much."

He rested his head on her shoulder gently. He was so tired.

"Want me to stay with you?" he heard Abby's distant voice.

"Hands to yourssss," he mumbled as his head sagged.

Abby waited until McGee's breaths were long, slow and steady before she attempted to lay him down. His head had slipped halfway down her chest by then anyway. Slowly she slid to one side, supporting him as he became more horizontal. Once she had achieved her goal she reached up to the desk and killed the fog light that had been blinding her for some time.

She looked down to see McGee was already groping blindly for her. He hadn't quite woken up yet but if she didn't get back there soon, he would. She lay down with a sigh. She was sort of tired but with the sort of caffeine levels she maintained, not much sleep was needed. McGee reached over and found her. He hugged her close, sighed contently and fell back into a sound sleep again.

That was pretty much how Tony found them the next morning when he got in. McGee lying almost on his stomach and Abby crushed under one arm like an old worn teddy bear. Gibbs joined him as he looked down.

Abby opened her eyes. "Help," she mouthed

"Think we'll be needing the jaws of life to get her out of there, boss," said Tony lightly.


	9. Congratulations

_Warning: contains seriously bad pun_

* * *

McGee and Abby watched the three dots on their screen representing the positions of Gibbs, Ziva and Tony. Abby reached out to the microphone connecting them all.

"OK, signal is on in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, go."

On another screen McGee saw the spike rise from the noise and hover for precisely the right amount of time.

"Gotta lock," he called out. "Sending positions now."

The three field agents received their identical position readouts at more or less identical moments, give or take a nanosecond and three car engines started. They converged on a small apartment building in the city. Three car doors opened and three agents emerged. Blending to form one synchronous mass, they headed for the stairs and up into the apartment block.

They stopped when they reached the correct address, Ziva on one side of the door frame, Gibbs on the other. Tony took a deep breath and broke down the door with one stamp of his foot. He peered in cautiously. The room was empty except for a mobile phone with a piece of paper on it. Gibbs stepped around the door jam with his gun raised.

"What the..," he began approaching the phone while Tony kept him covered. He looked down. The sign read 'Congratulations, you are our winner!'

"McGee!"

* * *

The atmosphere in the bullpen was electric, which explained why McGee was in shock.

"Ring them," Gibbs demanded shoving the phone under McGee's nose.

"Could be a bomb, boss," Tony warned.

"All the more reason it should be McGee."

McGee took the phone and swallowed hard. "I think I'll use the hands free," he said nervously. "Then we can use the speaker phone."

"You still gotta dial," Tony pointed out with a grin. Sure it might blow them all up, but if his last dying moments were spent watching Probie wet his pants in fear, it might be worth it.

McGee set the mobile up and then used a pencil to dial the number on the paper.

"Afraid it might be sensitive to your fingers, Probie?" Tony teased.

McGee stopped tapping and looked up. "No," he said. "I still have no feeling in my fingertips; it's easier if I can see what I'm doing."

"Dial," Gibbs commanded.

McGee shot Tony a dirty look and continued. He paused briefly to compose himself and then hit the dial button. They stood motionless, waiting for the ringing to be answered.

"Hello, and welcome to 'Catch the Spike', the fun treasure hunting game you can play at work," it was a pre-recorded message. "Our records indicate that you have found the winning phone! Congratulations! Your workplace will be rewarded with a free laptop with all the signal processing power you could ever need. To collect your prize just take the phone to the following address between 12 noon and 1pm on any work day. Congratulations again for a job well done!"

There was a pause and McGee rustled about to find a pen and notepad on his desk. He was just in time to jot down the address clumsily with his numb fingers. The phone went silent. And they all stood expectantly for a moment waiting for something to happen.

When nothing did, McGee sighed and sank in his chair, relieved. He did not notice Gibbs looming over his desk.

"McGee: If I find out that you have had us chasing our tails for two days so that you could win a Goddam competition, you will be busted so far the moon will seem like a warm tropical vacation spot." There was a malevolence in Gibbs voice that McGee hadn't heard since the days of Ari.

"I ah, boss, I would never, ah you can't think…," McGee flustered, any respect he had ever won from Gibbs had just flown out the window to be replaced by resentful, angry, vengeful Gibbs.

"Can it!"

Gibbs was furious at the waste of valuable time. "We have real cases people, get back to them."

Tony and Ziva scuttled for their desks.

"Tomorrow, we nab those bastards," said Gibbs ominously.

"I thought you said it was just a silly game….," Tony began.

"They kidnapped a federal agent, DiNozzo," Gibbs rounded on Tony. "Forget the waste of government resources by who knows how many of these blasted computer geeks," he waved his hand in McGee's general direction. "These guys could have killed someone and they still might if we don't stop them right now."

McGee sat stunned, hurt and rejected by Gibbs outburst. He thought he had made a valuable asset to the team. Apparently not.

Gibbs turned on McGee again. "Get down to autopsy."

McGee frowned, the death penalty seemed a bit harsh, even for Gibbs.

"McGee," yelled Gibbs in exasperation. "Ducky wants to check out those bandages. Then you might as well go home. There's no REAL danger and you're of no use to us here." He stormed off to his desk.

McGee pushed his chair out slowly. He saw Tony looking at him and he averted his eyes. He didn't want anyone to look at him. Shoulders slumped his wandered aimlessly in the general direction of the elevator to look for Ducky. At least Ducky might be nice to him.


	10. Nightmares

McGee lay on the bed looking up at the glowing light on the ceiling. He still felt queasy and it had been hours since he'd been down in autopsy with Ducky and Jimmy having his wretched wrist bandages changed. He thought he'd been doing quite well at first, sitting on the gurney, staring straight ahead and trying to think about something other than Gibb's wrath but it hadn't been long before the skin on his face began to feel rather hollow and he found he was taking deeper breaths than normal. Little beads of perspiration started squeezing out his pores.

"Alright, Timothy?" Ducky had asked, peering at the wrists over his glasses.

"Um, …I'm not sure," he had tried to answer honestly.

"Ah, Doctor Mallard…," Jimmy's urgent voice was in his ear as the first wave of light headedness hit him.

Ducky had looked up and simply said "oh".

That 'oh' was still echoing in his head as Jimmy helped him lie down. He hadn't actually fainted, of that he was sure, but he was feeling faint enough that Ducky had insisted that Jimmy drive him home. So now he was just lying down, trying to sleep, or at least not throw up.

He sighed when he heard the knock on his front door. That knock could be only one person and if he didn't get out of bed soon that same person would try to break in anyway.

He shuffled through the lounge room and peered into the eyepiece of the door. There was Tony's maniacal grin. McGee sighed again and undid the chain and lock. Tony entered and gave him his signature nipple tweak.

"Tony, I was in bed."

Tony gave him a disbelieving look. "It's 9 o'clock and every light in your house is on." He looked around for the desk lamp. "Every single light", he emphasized.

McGee started bolting the door closed. "I don't go to your house and complain about the lighting," he muttered.

Tony studied McGee's face carefully; he looked grey and there were crepe-skinned bags under his eyes.

"Have you eaten?" he asked suddenly.

"Not really hungry," McGee mumbled.

"Ziva left you some stuff in the fridge," said Tony

"I know."

"Can I at least tone down the lights?"

"No."

Tony caught McGee by the arm as he turned away.

"You know this is crazy, right?"

McGee looked at Tony with a sort of quiet desperation. "Tony," he said wearily. "I'm really tired, I just want to lie down somewhere. You can stay, you can go. I just need to lie down, I'm going to bed."

"OK," Tony said cheerfully. "I'll come with you."

McGee looked suddenly shocked.

"Park those brows," said Tony using his fingers to push McGee's eyebrows down. "I'll sit in a chair." He grabbed McGee's desk chair and hauled it into the bedroom.

McGee sighed again. He knew Tony was trying to be nice but he wouldn't complain right now if Tony inexplicably spontaneously combusted.

Once McGee had climbed into the bed again, Tony ducked out of the bedroom and systematically turned out every light.

"Tony," he heard McGee's complaint.

"OK, I'll leave one on. Come on, I know what you're paid, you can't afford this sort of electricity bill."

As he re-entered the bedroom, Tony turned off the main light for good measure leaving only a bedside lamp. He moved the chair next to McGee's side near the lamp.

"Don't touch it," McGee warned.

Tony put up his hands in surrender. "Wasn't even thinking about it." Then he learnt forward in the chair. "Want to tell me why you want the place lit up like a Christmas tree?"

McGee slid his eyes across guiltily to Tony. "I just can't handle the dark right now, OK."

"OK." Discussion ended. "So," began Tony afresh, "what do you want to talk about?"

"Tony!"

"Oh, right, sleeping." There was a pause. "You know Gibbs was only mad at you because he doesn't like being taken for a ride?"

"He wasn't the only one made to look a fool, Tony."

By this time McGee had figured out the only way to make Tony stop talking was to pretend to be asleep. So he rolled on his side, turning his back on him, closed his eyes and tried some deep breathing. At least that was the plan. Unfortunately, deep breathing, or sleeping for that matter was impossible on that side due to the pain in his ribs. Annoyed, he rolled on his back. He tried again. Deep breathing was definitely out. That seemed to hurt no matter what position he was in. Perhaps he could just ignore Tony and think about something else.

He tried to think of something fun: computer games, fantasy worlds, weapons, lances, spikes, electronic spikes, kidnapping, darkness. He started awake, suddenly aware he had been sleeping.

"OK, there, Probie?" Tony was still there.

"Mmm," he mumbled, drowsily.

Without intending to, he rolled over to face Tony and drifted off to sleep again thinking of Abby, conversations with Abby, lunchtime with Abby, spikes at lunchtime, kidnapping, darkness, fire, nakedness, vulnerability. He started, half-awake this time and let out a little whimper. He frowned at his own folly. Then he felt a warm hand in his and the tension seemed to drain out of him. He slid off to sleep.

* * *

Tony stifled a yawn and looked at his watch. It was 11 pm and McGee had been snoring for quite a while now. He was hungry. Extracting his hand from McGee's now limp grip, he hoisted himself out of the chair and tapped McGee lightly on the arm.

"Let's see what Ziva left you in the fridge," he said to McGee's oblivious face.

As Tony sat in the kitchen spooning chunks of lukewarm casserole into his mouth and reading through the escapades of L. J. Tibbs, he heard a strange noise from McGee's bedroom. Soundlessly, he set the bowl and spoon down and drew his weapon. He stalked through the apartment and peered carefully around the corner. Then he paused to assess the situation.

McGee was up with his fingertips on the walls feeling his way around the room.

"Must be a way out," he was muttering over and over.

Tony holstered his weapon.

"What are you doing?" he asked directly.

"Gotta be a way out," McGee explained simply feeling the contours of the wall.

"The door?" Tony suggested.

"Locked," McGee informed him concentrating hard on his task.

Tony frowned and then made his move. He took McGee gently by the arms and guided him back to bed.

"We've found you," he said quietly in his ear. "You're safe now, get some sleep."

McGee nodded dumbly, curled up on his side again and fell sound asleep leaving Tony still frowning at him.

Tony returned to the kitchen and baulked at the now cold casserole. He tossed it in the bin. Then he rustled around the linen cupboard until he found a sleeping bad and set himself up on the living room floor.


	11. Gut feelings

_WARNING: Obscure reference: get your season 1 DVDs out and check the credits on The Immortals. See anyone's brother?_

* * *

McGee awoke feeling stiff and sore. It had not been a good night, plagued as it was by nightmares of recent events. He looked across to Tony's chair, it was empty. That, at least, was a relief. He rolled painfully out of bed, switched off the light and headed for the bathroom.

He was still getting used to the combination of numb fingers and gloves in the shower. It was very dislocating to feel the pressure on his body but not on his fingers. He had trouble shaking the impression that someone else was touching him. As he dried, he considered his breakfast options. He was a little hungry, which was probably a good sign but since Ducky wanted to check out the bandages first thing, toast might be the safest option.

Although he didn't relish facing Gibbs this morning, the knowledge that today he would find out what the heck was going on made him keen to get going. No matter how crappy his life became today, he could start afresh tomorrow. He pushed the bathroom door open with great resolve and

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! TONY!"

Tony's face was two inches from his. He flung himself against the door jam bashing one shoulder and jarring his already injured ribs.

"Hi," Tony grinned. "My turn?"

"What, how, why… ," he wasn't quite sure what he wanted to ask but he knew he wanted to ask it really, really loudly. "AHH Tony!"

"Feeling better?" asked Tony lightly pushing past him and heading for the toilet.

"Apart from the heart attack, you mean?"

"Yeah," said Tony happily relieving himself in front of McGee.

"Well, yeah I suppose," then he stopped and asked suspiciously. "You haven't been thrown out of your place again, have you?"

"Probie, I'm hurt," said Tony, putting on his hurt face. It had no effect; McGee was still looking at him expectantly. "No I haven't," he said finally.

"OK," McGee relented. 'I'll get you a towel."

* * *

"Well?" Gibbs question to Tony first thing in the morning was direct and to the point.

"There's no way he's faking this boss," said Tony earnestly. He counted off on his fingers: "We had the lights on, we had loss of appetite, we had nightmares: solved, by the way, by the patented magic Gibbs hand hold." He held out is magical hand to prove the point and managed to elicit a begrudging smile from Gibbs. "And to top it all off," Tony continued. "We got the sleepwalking. He had it all! He's officially freaked out, Boss."

Gibbs nodded gruffly. He really didn't think McGee would be so stupid but he had learnt over the years never to assume. Ducky had given him similar feed back. McGee had almost passed out yesterday when they changed the bandages; it was unlikely the wounds were intentionally self inflicted.

"Where is he now?"

"With Ducky again."

Gibbs smiled wryly. "He'll enjoy that."

Something in his gut was warning him that all was not what it seemed. It was also telling him that McGee was not the problem. That first night when they rescued him should have told him that. It was pretty textbook stuff and he been through it a million times before. Something was still wrong. Maybe it was the geek connection. He could understand ex-military and ex-cops and he'd even got the handle on FBI and sometimes CIA, but he just did not understand the geeks. And what he didn't understand, he had a hard time trusting. Did he trust McGee? Almost, there was one more thing he had to check. He rose and headed purposely for Abby's lab.

* * *

"Do you think McGee would use government resources for online gaming?" he asked Abby with a tone of great seriousness.

"Gibbs!"

"Yes or no?"

"No," she said forcefully.

"I'm serious Abbs," he tried to calculate how far Abby would risk lying to him to protect McGee. She was clearly hiding something from him and he didn't like it.

"What makes you so sure?" he tried an attack from a more obscure angle. "He plays online games at home, he writes mysteries, what makes you so sure he wouldn't take it to the next level?"

Abby put down her work and sighed at him. "This does not leave this room," she said.

"I'm listening."

"McGee's brother died because of an obsession with online gaming. He lost the distinction between the game and reality and tried to do something superhuman. McGee is the most careful person I know."

Gibbs stroked his chin thoughtfully looking at her.

"OK," he finally conceded the point.

He was mad at someone and he didn't even know who yet. They had made him doubt his own gut and one of his agents. They were going to pay.


	12. Small men in high places

It was nearly noon as the four agents sped down the highway in the sleek black dodge. The silence was palatable, Gibbs gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white and the rest staring off in various directions, rehearsing in their minds what was to come.

McGee looked down at his wrists yet again. The morning in autopsy had been unusual to say the least. When he had arrived, Abby was there talking nervously to Ducky. The conversation stopped abruptly as he entered and neither seemed keen to include him.

He had insisted on sitting in a chair this time. He was getting sick of sympathetic looks. The toast had definitely been a good choice. He had still felt queasy especially when Ducky said the stitches didn't look as infected as he had feared and he'd probably get Jimmy to ping them in a couple of days. No one had mentioned he had stitches there and certainly no one mentioned pinging. He assumed it wasn't meant in the computer sense.

Even when the raw meat was exposed he held up OK. Sure he had to put his head down a bit but he pretended to be interested in the scars hoping they couldn't see his eyes were actually shut. He could feel Abby's warmth on his back, her hand stroking across his shoulders. He wasn't fooling anyone but himself.

Then something very puzzling happened. Abby had pulled out a pair of black studded leather wrists braces, similar to her own.

"Gibbs said it was OK, if you wore these," she had said quietly.

He had glance at Ducky but he seemed preoccupied with his work. He had wondered briefly if there was a bet going somewhere at his expense but, wisely, he had chosen not to mention it. Abby was looking very fragile today.

"You'll hardly see them under your jacket," Abby had continued. "And it helps me feel like you're safe; like we have a sort of connection."

He had watched her intently as she wrapped them around his wrists. There was no hint of ulterior motive. When she had finished she gave him a broad smile which faded quickly.

"I know they're only probably only a bunch of college kids, but be careful. Please."

"OK," he had answered. He hadn't been freaked out about this little excursion until then. Now he kept wondering what she knew that he didn't. It made him nauseous just to think about it.

Ziva looked craned her head to see Tony in the back seat.

"What would that be on the colour chart?" she asked, nodding in McGee's direction.

Tony considered McGee's complexion for a moment. "I'd give it Chartreuse," he decided.

"Oh, I would have gone a little more olive than that," said Ziva conversationally.

"Quit it," muttered McGee.

"Colour is so subjective, isn't it?" Tony continued happily.

"Cut it out, you two," Gibbs ended the conversation abruptly as they pulled up to the kerb.

* * *

The local LEOs were in position. Gibbs left the three younger agents at the car and checked in with the highest ranking police officer he could find. Then he returned to his team.

"OK, lets roll, we'll be waiting in the corridor, you're on your own McGee," he said gruffly, tossing him the phone and turning to walk with Tony and Ziva.

"Ah Boss?" McGee began uncertainly.

"What?" Gibbs turned only half back.

McGee opened his mouth for a moment but the only thought that came into his mind was: 'I know you don't care if I live of die but…' Then he considered that might not be the best opening line.

"McGee!" Gibbs was hardly a patient person.

"Boss, I..," he struggled to find the words and his eyes did a nervous triple blink. "I can't pull the trigger."

"We haven't got time for your insecurities, McGee," Gibbs was getting frustrated at him again. "Do your job or live with the consequences."

"No boss, that's not what I mean." Not exactly the vote of confidence he was looking for, he could feel the panic starting to rise but he kept his voice level. "I can't feel my fingers, in fact most of my hand. I can't tell if I'm even holding a gun and I really don't think I can physically pull the trigger."

Gibbs turned to face McGee fully and he saw the quiet panic in his eyes. He had misjudged him; it wasn't insecurity, it was the fear that he might let the team down. He walked back to McGee and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"I've got your back, McGee," he said with a gentle smile. There might have even been a twinkle in those steely blues.

* * *

Ziva stood on one side of the door jam and Tony on the other. Their guns raised in a silent salute. McGee stood in front of the door composing himself. Gibbs had a warm hand on his back between his shoulder blades. McGee hadn't realised 'got your back' was quite so literal.

"Let's do this McGee," said Gibbs soberly.

McGee raised his hand and knocked. There was a clanking of metal and chains for a moment and the door opened a crack. One cautious eye peered out.

"Yes?" it said.

McGee silently held up the phone and the door was flung open with a cry of "Ahhhh! You are the one."

McGee took a careful step inside so that Gibbs hand fell away. The room was small and lined with electronics. There were four barely post pubescent men typing at keyboards. They all looked up with interest as he entered. One of them rose immediately and greeted McGee like a long lost brother.

"You!" he said. "We thought you were dead!" and he hugged McGee about halfway down his arms: height wasn't his strong suit. In fact none of these guys were very tall, McGee was starting to notice.

The hug had dragged him further into the room, revealing Gibbs at his back.

"And this is?" there was a tension in the room, not just from the new tone of the guy's voice but because everyone seemed to be smiling far too much.

"Ah, my boss," McGee explained.

Gibbs stepped forward. "I want to know where you guys get off kidnapping a federal agent."

"Ahhh, come in, come in," the insincere smile was even wider. "We'll show you our operation."

McGee took a few more steps, lured by the sight of online games he had read about but not yet had the time to try but Gibbs stood his ground by the door.

"No thanks," he declined. His gut was telling him to move slowly. There was something going on here that he didn't fully understand. He never trusted a room full of computers.

"Suit yourself," the man shrugged, he was obviously more interested in McGee. He turned and attempted to put a friendly hand on McGee's shoulder. The height difference made this seem less than natural.

"The kidnapping was all part of the game," he explained cordially to McGee. "That should have been explained in the gaming notes. We like to keep it as realistic as possible."

"It's an offence," said Gibbs voice from behind.

The guy turned and smiled an even wider smile at Gibbs. "So hard to prove," he shrugged. He turned his attention to McGee who was investigating some of the displays at close quarters.

Tony poked his head around the corner and then tucked it back. He whispered to Ziva standing on the other side of the door.

"Take a look," he invited. "Only McGee could get kidnapped by the entire cast of 'Revenge of the Nerds'."

Ziva smiled and poked her head around the corner. A sudden burst of recognition triggered an automatic response. She leapt through the door with her gun raised and shouted something very guttural. The room dissolved into chaos, the smiles were gone, replaced by angry yelling, frantic computer typing and then a massive explosion that filled the room with acrid smoke.

Tony reached around the door and pulled Ziva bodily out of the room. "Get help!" he yelled at her. "Go, go, go!"

Ziva stood wide-eyed for a moment and then understood. As much as she wanted to get in there, the best way she could help was if she got her information to the right people. She fled down the passage with her phone to her ear trying to remember to use English


	13. A nurse, at last

McGee awoke in a gasping panic. He was being pushed along on a stretcher by someone who's driving made Ziva look like a sixty-year old peering cautiously over the rim of the wheel. There were tears streaming down his face and an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. There was a tremendous ache over his entire chest and his lungs burnt like acid every time he took a breath. He wasn't entirely convinced they were working to design specs.

There were other trolleys in the bumper car rally and he could hear Ziva's frantic voice yelling out in something that could have been heavily accented English or some other language.

His trolley was launched freely and it spun a full 180 degrees before coming to rest against a wall. Through the flood of tears, he could barely discern Ziva's worried face as she grasped one of his hands firmly in hers and stroked his forehead with the other. He could feel her soft hair brushing against the side of his face. All this only served to make him panic more.

"No, no, no, no, no," she said soothingly, bending close to him. "Hush now, I know it hurts but do not worry, I know the neutralising agent."

McGee struggled to see how the terms "don't worry" and "neutralising agent" could possibly ever co-exist in the same sentence. He felt a needle being inserted into his hand and a cold liquid running into his arm.

"Rest in peace," was the last thing he heard Ziva say as the world darkened.

* * *

Ziva was pretty sure she had said the wrong thing again. Maybe it was McGee's wide eyed look of horror as his eyes rolled up or Tony's painful gasping laughter into his oxygen mask. Whatever the hint, she'd mixed it up again.

"What was wrong with that?" she asked Tony, exasperated as they wheeled McGee away.

"Nothing if you were trying to give him a eulogy," Tony's voice was muffled by his mask. "Ow", he laughed. "It hurts."

Ziva closed her eyes for a moment in frustration and then turned with a sweet smile on her face. "I meant it like 'rest easy' or 'be at peace'."

"Close," Tony laughed again and then coughed painfully. "Just don't try to comfort me, OK?"

* * *

When McGee opened his eyes again, they were clear. Sore, and dry but clear. Just like in the movies; it was a nice safe clean hospital: there was an oxygen mask, machines going ping and clean white bandages. Except for the excruciating pain across his chest, he felt he had achieved something.

He moved his head slightly to survey the room and found Ziva curled up like a cat on the visitor's chair six inches from his face. She was leafing through a magazine; probably not hospital supplied as there seemed to be a great deal of ammunition on the photo on the front cover. She looked up at the movement.

"Ah McGee," she smiled. "We were very nearly brothers in arms."

McGee gave her a puzzled expression with his eyes and eyebrows, he wasn't too sure how his voice was going to be, his throat felt rather sore.

"Well, yes, I know we are unofficially workmates at NCIS, but you were almost recruited to Mossad."

McGee's eyebrows went up in surprise.

"Yes," she nodded. "Online games are an especially rich source of recruits, especially if you are targeting the government agencies. You should have seen the transportation they had arranged for you. You would have been out of this country in a couple of hours."

This time there was only one eyebrow up.

"We would have found you, though," she continued holding up Abby's black studded wrist braces. "I helped Abby insert the trackers in here."

McGee wanted to ask her why they hadn't mentioned it to him but he couldn't make a question mark with his eyebrows alone.

"You can talk McGee," said Ziva with an exasperated sigh. "It's like Abby and the sign language thing, those eyebrows."

"Why didn't she just tell me?" it was just a whisper.

"You are not a good liar, McGee." OK, she had a point. He was going to have to work on that.

"Tony and Gibbs?" he had been right to conserve his voice, it was dry and raspy and it hurt like crazy.

"Fine," she assured him. "Still on oxygen but much better than you."

There was a relived smile under the mask.

"Did we get them?" he rasped again.

"Us?" she considered for a moment. "No. But they are gone now and their little operation is neutralised. NCIS is tidying up the loose ends. Abby managed to get a few good names off what was left of their hard drives."

"Go Abbs," he whispered.

"Yes, she is a wonder sometimes."

"What was the gas?" he asked suddenly, his scientific curiosity piqued.

"Nothing you'd know," she said.

"I have a BS in biomedical engineering…," he started.

"I don't think they taught you this one," she said solemnly. "I don't know the English for it but…hold on.."

She looked around for something to write on and settled on the back of his chart. She hastily scribbled a diagram of the molecular structure and passed it over. Tilting the board to the right angle to catch the light, McGee's eyes widened as he understood the implication.

"But," Ziva continued. "If you break these bonds here," she reached out with the pencil and struck out a couple of lines. "You can stop the reaction."

He nodded, impressed and passed back the board.

"I never thanked you properly for the food," he started.

"Did Tony enjoy it?"

McGee smiled at her again under the mask. "I found half of it in the bin."

Ziva smiled. "You'll feel more like it when you get back. Early days are not when you are hungry. It was more for the next week or so when you are starving and you can't be bothered doing anything." There was a knowing look in her eyes. She had obviously endured some of his recent experiences in her life.

"Did you know Tony gave you mouth to mouth while we waited for the ambulance?" she changed the topic suddenly.

McGee's hand shot automatically to his mouth to wipe it clean but it met the oxygen mask instead. The vision of Tony bending over him with his mouth firmly planted on his own was, quite frankly, unnerving.

"And Gibbs did the heart pushing thing…CPR? They kept you alive for about 5 minutes."

OK the picture was getting more worse by the minute. Dead bodies still made him nervous, imagining his own with Tony and Gibbs working on it was downright creepy. It did explain the chest pain, though, he didn't imagine for one moment that Gibbs was gentle about it.

"But what made them think I'd work for them?" McGee suddenly spoke up.

"Who? Mossad? Well, either you work for them or they eliminate you from the competition. It's win-win as far as they're concerned."

Try as he might, McGee couldn't see how it could possibly be a win for him.

The door opened and Tony glided in sans oxygen mask.

"McGee, buddy," he started with his arms open wide. "Want to take up where we left off?" He puckered his lips.

"Tony!" McGee shocked was muffled by the mask. He hoped the elastic securing it to his face was really strong.

"You know you want to," said Tony suggestively.

"Where is Gibbs?" Ziva asked in an attempt to break the mood.

"Coming," said Tony. "He had a visit from one of those redheads. You know the one who drives the sports car?"

McGee shuddered. "That one freaks me out," he said. "She reminds me of my mother."

Then he turned to Tony. "Thanks," he said simply.

"Don't mention it," said Tony lightly Then he got down close to McGee's face. "Ever," he emphasized. "If I hear one more person say how great it was to watch me playing tonsil hockey with you……"

Then McGee saw her: the cute nurse of his dreams. She was standing right behind Tony with a look of trepidation on her face. Perfect, the cute nurse finally appears and she thinks he is gay. Tony strikes again.

--END--


End file.
